Denouement
by Mama Jo
Summary: John Sheppard had never claimed to have a cushy life. But this particular tragedy in a line of them just might be his breaking point -- and that of his family. JohnElizabeth
1. Part I

Disclaimer: I do not own _Stargate: Atlantis_, any characters, places, things, or ideas therein, nor do I claim ownership in any way, shape, or form. I am writing this fic for entertainment purposes only, not for monetary gain.

Summary: John Sheppard had never claimed to have a cushy life. But this particular tragedy in a line of them just might be his breaking point -- and that of his family. JohnElizabeth

Rating: T

Warnings: Violence

Pairings: John/Elizabeth (Sparky); slight Ronon/Teyla (Spanky)

Spoilers: All episodes with the Genii.

Universe/Series: Next in the series based off fyd818's _Journey to Forever/Shattered_ story universe.

Part: 1/4

Title: _Denouement_

Author: Mama Jo

**Author's Note: **This is another fic that takes place in fyd818's ._Journey/Shattered_ universe. Thank you, fyd, for allowing me to fill in some of the gap between these two stories_._ As you've seen, I'm having a blast on the playground! Thank you for reading -- I hope you enjoy! Please drop me a line or two, let me know what you think. :) --Mama Jo

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**Denouement**

_Mama Jo_

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Part I

Even though he knew it would be empty, Lt. Col. John Sheppard still glanced up at the little balcony off the control room as he mounted the steps to the elevated portion of Atlantis's Gateroom floor. As he gave the 'Gate tech the signal to start dialing out, he saw from the corner of his eye Teyla, then Ronon, do the same thing.

McKay, still fussing with the arrangement of some of the gear clipped to his tac vest, came up on John's left. He craned his neck and squinted up at the balcony. "Huh," he said, "no Elizabeth. She sleeping in this morning?"

Lights chased around the rim of the Stargate, and the wormhole _kawhooshed_ open. John tipped his head to his other two teammates, indicating they could go through first. "Yeah," he replied, keeping his eyes forward as he started for the active 'Gate.

"She, ah, feeling poorly?" Rodney persisted, trailing behind.

The event horizon snatched them out of Atlantis, and deposited them an instant later in a sunny, autumn landscape. "Yeah," John said again.

"Morning sickness, I guess? Wow, it must be really bad to keep her from seeing us off. I mean, I don't think she's missed a single. . ." His voice trailed off as Sheppard rounded on him. "What?"

Staring into the scientist's suddenly puzzled, light grey-blue eyes, John heaved an inward sigh and told himself Rodney meant well. "I'll tell her you were concerned," he said as mildly as he could. "So can we get on with this so we can get back?"

"Oh. Right." McKay started fumbling around in his vest's pockets while looking around at their surroundings. "According to Lt. Callahan's report, the ruins should be that way." He pointed toward a copse of trees crowning a nearby rise of land, and set off. With a sympathetic glance back at John, Teyla fell into step with Rodney, allowing him to lag back. Ronon held back, silently keeping pace with him.

With essentially nothing to do but keep watch over the quiet countryside, the day dragged on. John's mind kept returning to the thoroughly miserable Elizabeth who'd woken him so early with the sound of her retching. Morning sickness was a natural part of pregnancy, Sheppard reminded himself repeatedly. Or so he'd always heard. His first wife, Nancy, had refused to have a child whose father might at any time be killed in the line of duty; and since he'd been equally adamant in refusing to resign from the Air Force, they'd never conceived. He truly was in undiscovered territory.

What he really wanted was reassurance, he decided as the sun inched toward its zenith. Things were really quiet; maybe he'd just take a stroll back to this planet's Stargate and make a quick call back to Atlantis. . .

Just as he was opening his mouth to say so to Ronon, the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching from the direction of the Stargate reached his ears. He instinctively pushed to his feet and turned towards them, his gut tightening; only peripherally aware of his Satedan teammate standing just behind him, of Teyla and McKay moving closer as well.

Maj. Lorne suddenly cleared the treeline, moving very quickly, and Sheppard suddenly went very cold inside. _No,_ he thought. _No,_ even as the younger officer skidded, panting, to a halt in front of him. He felt his face settle into the bleak, blank expression Nancy had hated so much.

"Col. Sheppard," Lorne gasped, and John refused to let himself react to the look in the other man's blue eyes. "Sir, Dr. Beckett sent me to extract you. You need to come back to Atlantis immediately."

John nodded once, stiffly. "Teyla, take over," he said, his voice sounding tight and distant in his own ears. "Complete the mission." He couldn't bear to look at her face, or at Ronon's or McKay's. He just took off for the 'Gate as fast as he could go, Lorne quickly falling behind. And with every thudding stride, every hammer blow of his heart, his thoughts echoed:

'_Lizabeth._

_The baby._

_No. No. No._

_**To Be Continued**_


	2. Part II

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, etc.

Part 2/4

**Author's Note:** Thank you to all the lovely people who have read, reviewed, favorited, and added this story to their alert lists. I appreciate all of you so much, and you brighten my day each time I see an alert in my box. Thank you again, and I hope you enjoy part 2! -Mama Jo

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Denouement

**Mama Jo**

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Part II

Shock held John immobile beside the DHD. Waves of hot and cold rage roiled up from his gut, pulsing alternately through him. Now that he'd heard Maj. Lorne's gasped out report, he understood the look on the young officer's face as he stared down at him. It wasn't pity, or at least not entirely.

It was shame.

One part of Sheppard wanted to reassure Lorne that he didn't fault him; knew, in fact, that as the other man's commanding officer, it was even his duty to do so. But at the moment, he couldn't trust himself to speak. The best he could manage was a jerky nod. It was evidently enough to convey something positive, though; Lorne's shoulders straightened infinitesimally.

John turned to the DHD. As he reached to punch the first symbol in Atlantis's address, a distant shout of, _"Sheppard! Sheppard, wait up!" _reached his ears. Jaw clenching so tightly the leaders in his neck stood out, he refused to look around, continuing to enter symbols: _Two, three, four, five. . . _From the corner of his eye, he saw Lorne's uneasy, flickering glances away and back again, as footsteps crashed and slithered their way down the slope.

_Six, seven. . . _"Sheppard!" McKay's shout was much closer, as well as decidedly more breathless. The colonel slapped his hand onto the central crystal, depressing it. As the unstable vortex of the wormhole formed, swirled out, receded into shimmering readiness, he rounded sharply to face his approaching team. He raked them with a look, wanting to blast them for their insubordination; but his overwhelming need to get back to Atlantis turned him away and drove him for the open 'Gate.

"_John!"_ McKay almost never called him by his first name. His use of it now brought him up short. Pausing halfway to the Stargate, Sheppard wrenched back around again. Chest heaving, Rodney gestured over his shoulder, saying very fast, "The whole 'complete the mission' thing— Total non-issue— There's nothing important back there— Nothing for us to hang around for—" He cut himself off with an audible gulp. Letting his hand drop and looking thoroughly uncomfortable, he fixed John with a straightforward look and said more quietly, "Look, John – we," he motioned vaguely to Ronon and Teyla, who stood at his right shoulder, "we care about Elizabeth, too. And – we want to be there for her – and for you – whatever's happening."

For a brief instant, John's adamantine control slipped. "_Kolya_ is what's happening." The words exploded uncontrollably out of him, searing his throat in their passage. "And he's shot— He shot—" His throat closed up, cutting off his voice. Spinning on his heel, he broke for the 'Gate once more, oblivious to the consternation he left behind him, totally consumed by the need to get to his wife.

_Please still be alive, 'Lizabeth, my love, my life. Please . . . be alive._

((()))

Sheppard barely noticed the escort of grimfaced, armed-to-the-teeth Marines waiting for him in the Atlantis Gateroom, so focused was he on reaching the infirmary as quickly as possible. Never afterward could he fully remember his transit between the two points. All he retained was the awareness of his team keeping pace at his rear; and the peripheral impression of people with very sober faces, some of them tear streaked, lining the corridors more and more thickly the closer he got to the infirmary. Just outside its doors, the Marine escort held back, allowing him to enter just ahead of his teammates.

It was in shambles.

John checked up briefly, his face going an impossible degree stonier as he swept his eyes across the damage. As from a great distance, he heard McKay swearing, Teyla's softer exclamations of distress. Swinging sharply toward the critical care side of the infirmary, he unexpectedly found his way blocked by a red-eyed Dr. Biro. "Please, Colonel Sheppard—" she started to say.

John cut her off, forcing his voice past his throat-clogging fear. "I want to see _my wife_." Very deliberately, he took an intentionally intimidating step toward her. She held her ground.

"It's all right, luv, I'll take it from here." Carson's voice, slow and sad, drew John's attention to his left. The Scottish doctor limped into view, his right arm supported by a sling and his forehead sporting a purpling bruise. John felt his eyes widen slightly at the sight as Dr. Biro stepped back out of his way. "She's still alive, and the bairn, too. But she's in a coma, and I won't lie to ye, John: Depending on whether or not we can control the swelling of her brain, we may yet lose her. Go on back to her now, just the other side of the divider here. Bed one."

He didn't need to be told twice. Unable to speak, he momentarily clasped Beckett's good shoulder before moving past him.

Crossing noiselessly to Elizabeth's bedside, John looked helplessly down at her. Bandages concealed the damage Kolya's bullet had done to her head. But he'd seen too many such wounds in his career, and could visualize all too clearly what lay below the sterile whiteness. He wanted with every aching cell of his body to gather her dear, motionless form into his arms, but was unsure whether it was even safe for him to touch her on any of the seemingly few places not occupied by sensors, or needles, or tubing. His eyes burning with unshed tears, he extended his right hand, laying it lightly on Elizabeth's lower abdomen; at the same time bending over so he could rest his forehead against the bare skin of her right shoulder. Closing his eyes, he whispered, "Don't leave me, 'Lizabeth. I love you, I still can't believe how much I love you. Stay with me, don't go, _please _don't go."

In his mind, John heard Lorne's voice again: _"We don't know how he managed it, but all the Genii – at least, we're assuming they were Genii – who came through the 'Gate with him really were suffering from severe radiation burns. He was wearing one of the radiation suits we'd furnished their nuclear scientists with, so no one got a good look at him. A couple of the burn victims coded right after coming through, med teams were swarming everywhere trying to cope, to get everyone to the infirmary— No one thought it strange when he tagged along. I guess Dr. Weir must have been monitoring things from your quarters, because Doc Beckett said she arrived in the infirmary right after he and the others all did. That was when,"_ and Lorne's voice had nearly broken, _"that was when he opened fire . . ."_

John tried, and failed, to block the rest of the scene from scrolling through his mind again: The screams, bodies falling, _Elizabeth_ falling wounded, blood spurting, the chaos—

An alarm started beeping rapidly, and he jerked upright. Even though he'd thought he'd already reached the dark heart of his deepest fears, he discovered how wrong he'd been when Beckett and Dr. Biro and a whole crew of nurses swarmed in. Carson immediately took John by the arm, insistently drawing him to one side as the others went into furiously controlled action around her. Unable to take his eyes from what was happening, he forced himself to ask, "Doc, what's going on? She isn't— She _can't_ be—"

In a matter of seconds, Biro and the nurses were wheeling Elizabeth's gurney at high speed out of the cubicle. "No, Colonel, not that." Beckett's blue eyes flicked after them, and back again. "But the pressure inside her skull was going up toward critical levels. It's going to have to be relieved surgically if she's to have any chance at all. I'm sorry, John, but I have to go now. Dr. Biro will be doing the actual surgery, but I have to help monitor her vitals." With a final reassuring squeeze of his fingers, he hobbled quickly away.

For what seemed like an eternity, Sheppard stood alone, staring blankly at the place where his beloved wife had so recently been. His earlier all-consuming rage returned. But it was completely cold now, freezing his heart and filling him with an icy clarity of purpose. Without his consciously willing it, his fingers wrapped themselves around his P90, still clipped to the side of his tac vest. He pivoted to leave – and barely kept himself from bouncing off Ronon's broad chest. Unnoticed, his three teammates had entered the cubicle, worried eyes focused on him.

"John," Teyla asked softly, reaching out to lay one hand gently on his forearm, "what is happening?"

Grudging the time, he tersely repeated what Beckett had told him, at the end saying, "Now excuse me, but I've gotta go do something." He pushed past them.

"_Do_ something? Do _what?"_ McKay's bewildered voice chased after him.

John never slowed down. "Kill Kolya," he threw back over his shoulder, and was gone.

_**To Be Continued**_


	3. Part III

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, etc.

Part 3/4

_**A/N:**_ Thank you so much, everyone, for all the support with the hits/reviews/alerts/faves. You are all so amazing, and brighten my day every time I open my e-box and see the alerts. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy part 3! -Mama Jo

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Denouement

**Part III**

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Once before, believing Elizabeth dead by Kolya's hand, he'd hunted Genii soldiers through the intricate vastness of Atlantis: Hunted them, and very methodically killed them. His actions then had been taken in the line of duty -- more or less. Now, though. . .

. . ._Now_ was an entirely different matter.

As before, he hunted alone; by choice this time, rather than by necessity. By his order, all teams had been withdrawn from the active search to establish airtight perimeters around Atlantis's most critical zones, including all the site-to-site transporters closest to those core areas. His own team had reluctantly remained behind at the infirmary -- _extremely_ reluctantly. Oddly enough, Ronon had capitulated first. Or perhaps not so oddly: He'd lost a wife -- John had fiercely refused to think the word "too." McKay, of all people, had been the one who'd needed his sternest, coldest stare before he'd backed down. Amazing, but the chunky Canadian scientist still had the ability to surprise him sometimes.

P-90 at the ready, eyes flickering from his surroundings to the life signs detector in his left hand, Sheppard eased down an open flight of metal steps. For the last several minutes, a bluish white dot had been appearing and disappearing at the extreme forward edge of the device's screen. He paused just past the halfway point, frowning at its will o' the wisp antics. Something really weird was going on. It was almost as if--

John could never afterward say what warned him; whether it was some sound just at the threshold of hearing, or some other indefinable sensory clue. One second he was poised on the staircase; the next, his muscles were catapulting him off it into twelve feet of empty air. As soon as his boots touched the floor, he instinctively tucked and rolled to dissipate some of the impact of his landing, feeling his breath jolt out of his body. At the very same instant, an explosion obliterated the stairs just above the poin the'd jumped from.

Sheppard flattened himself, covering his head with his arms while fragments of metal pinged and whined all about him. Nor did all of them miss. Though his tac vest protected his vital organs from the flying shrapnel, he felt a fiery slash across the back of his left forearm. _Son of a--!_ His ears still ringing from the blast, he used knees and elbows to propel himself swiftly to the nearby cover of a massive support pylon. He drew up into a cautious crouch. _It's almost as if he _knew_-- _He raised the life signs detector to eye level, wincing at the answering stab of pain as he rotated his left wrist.

On the screen, the elusive dot he'd been tracking was creeping downwards from the top, edging closer to his position. His headset clicked.

"_Sheppard,"_ the familiar, falsely smooth, hated voice murmured into his ear, _"Weir is dead, did you know? I killed her. Just as I'm about to finish killing you--"_

((()))

"He's got to know." Ronon's voice cut implacably across McKay's profane rant. He towered over his companions as he unconsciously rolled his shoulders back. "I'll go."

"And I." Teyla took up a position at the Satedan's right elbow, her grief-drawn face determined. McKay immediately flanked her, arms crossed over his chest, his prominent chin outthrust belligerently. Off to one side, a totally exhausted and battered Doc Beckett leaned on the crutch he'd finally accepted, looking very much as if he would like to add his support to their line.

Major Lorne's blue eyes, puckered in equal parts worry and outrage, evaluated them unflinchingly. He had his superior officer's clear orders. Willfully violating them could mean, at best, an official reprimand and having his bloody, mangled tail handed to him on a platter; at worst, a court martial and the end of his Air Force career. But of all the commanding officers he'd ever had, of all the officers he'd ever known, only two -- General Hammond and General O'Neill -- came close to inspiring the fiercely intense, deeply personal respect and loyalty he had for Colonel Sheppard. And truth be told, sitting on his figurative hands while all the time knowing his CO was out singlehandedly hunting that monster had eaten a hole in his gut, too.

He puffed a breath, his decision made. "Orders be damned," he said. "On _my_ authority, we'll _all_ go."

_**To Be Continued**_


	4. Part IV

Please see first chapter for all disclaimers, the rating, the warnings, etc.

Part 4/4

**Author's Note**: As promised, here is the fourth and final part of _**Denouement.**_ Thank you so much for all those who have read, reviewed, favorited, and alerted this story. You all give me so much inspiration and make my day every time I see an alert in my box. Thank you all, and I hope you enjoy this final chapter!

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Denouement

**Part IV**

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Doesn't matter how he got hold of a headset. It's a distraction, so shut it out.

Moving very, very carefully so no whisper of fabric on fabric, no slightest scraping of equipment or dislodged debris could warn his enemy, Sheppard sank back down onto his stomach, grateful for the concealing girth of the pylon. He propped the life signs detector within easy view and, flat to the floor to present as small a target as possible, eased his P-90 around the edge of the pillar, his right eye to the scope. No targeting laser, he decided, not with all the dust hanging in the air from Kolya's failed booby trap. He rolled his eyes for a quick glance aside and down at the Ancient device; just as quickly returned his attention to his weapon, adjusting his aim fractionally.

_There!_ A flicker of movement within an obscuring shadow, an oddly hunched over shape. _"What, Sheppard,"_ the mocking almost-whisper sounded again in his ear, _"no last words for me? No pathetic curses, no empty defiance? I know you're not dead yet. Why waste your last moments in unrewarding stoicism? Entertain me for just a little longer—"_

The barely-seen form suddenly halted at the same moment the voice ceased. In utter silence, Sheppard squinted into his gun's sights, barely aware of the blood now running down his arm and puddling under his elbow. Something about the dim image seemed wrong somehow, out of kilter; but John didn't take time to try to analyze it. So close, he was so _close_ to having a clear shot—

The merest breath of what might have been a huff of frustration came over his headset. _"Weir was such an _easy_ target, I barely had time to enjoy her death at all. I admit I hoped for much better from you. I looked forward to watching you writhing futilely as your life bleeds out of you. But apparently I must forgo that little pleasure."_

Unbelievably, the hunched shadow nearly centered in the crosshairs of his scope was _withdrawing_. Even as a fragment of his mind wondered at his quarry's sudden retreat, Sheppard fired a burst at it in a motion as coldly calculated as it was swift. A sound somewhere between a grunt and a gasp, quickly cut off, exploded over his headset, followed by the echoes of a slithering scramble – and then silence.

Snatching up his LSD, John pushed to his feet, no longer concerned about the noise he made. Still staying low, zigzagging from point to point just in case Kolya was trying to lure him into an ambush, John crossed the final open bit in a rush. Thumbing on his gun's searchlight, he swept it left to right and back again, slightly lower on the next pass; paused as it glistened off the red slickness of blood, a spattered trail that beckoned him onward.

Grim satisfaction oddly tempered by a prickling sense of unease surged through him. _What made him back away like that?_ Ruthlessly stamping down both emotions, he switched off the light and consulted his detector. One dot, fast and erratic, moving back toward the top of the screen, just as he anticipated. . .

. . .Four more completely unexpected ones closing from his rear. Just as he registered their presence, his headset clicked, a rapid pattern that meant _friendlies._ A fear colder than the frozen-hard hatred consuming him sent him staggering sideways into a wall. _Elizabeth!_ Closing his eyes, he forced himself to refocus, fiercely locking away _anything_ that might distract him from his mission – even his desperate fear for his wife and their unborn baby – to be dealt with later. _Ice, he was ice, cold, impervious ice_. . . Wrenching upright, he resolutely turned to resume his pursuit.

His headset clicked again: the coded equivalent of the hand signal for _Stop!_ At the same moment, two of the pursuing dots on the LSD broke away from the other pair, narrowing the gap separating them from him fast. Sheppard hesitated a moment longer, eyeing the blood trail, yearning to follow it, to _finish_ this—

But fixated on his goal as he was, he wasn't stupid. He assumed Lorne was the fourth of those rearward dots, the one sending him the click-codes via his headset. _That_ in itself said volumes to him; that, and the fact the major had knowingly violated his orders. It was yet another tally mark on the list that had been inexorably building in the back of his head.

So when he heard running footsteps approaching the head of the ruined staircase behind him, he took another glance at the drying red splatters before turning his back on them, and reached for his headset to send a coded message of his own: _Caution. Caution._ Then he returned to stand just below the dangling remains of the steps.

The footsteps slowed. A couple of minutes later, Lorne and Ronon halted at the edge of the mezzanine above him. Sheppard consciously declined to say anything, but simply stared upward at the two men, evaluating their expressions in silence.

Ronon dropped to one knee, the hand with his blaster resting across the upthrust other one, returning his stare while looking more than normally grim. But it was Lorne who spoke first. "Colonel," he said, "with apologies for disobeying your orders, sir, but we have vital information you need to know, possibly affecting the outcome of your mission. Information we couldn't pass to you over normal channels."

"Those channels being compromised." Sheppard said it flatly, a statement instead of a question. "Since Kolya has a headset."

"Yessir. And," the major suddenly looked years older than his true age, "a life signs detector."

All John's earlier unease returned in a rush, raising goose bumps all over his body. He remembered the peculiar antics of Kolya's life sign on his detector, how the rogue Genii had abruptly withdrawn at the approach of Lorne and Sheppard's team. It hadn't made sense at the time; and even given this new intel, it _still_ didn't make sense. Aloud, he said, "Even if Kolya did manage to get his hands on a detector, Major, he doesn't have the gene. He couldn't use it." _Yet,_ the thought whispered insistently at the back of his mind, _it would explain a lot. But no – _his _was the only life sign registering, and I didn't see any hostage with him when I had him in my scope. _Nevertheless, seeing again with his mind's eye that oddly hunched figure coming toward him through the shadows, an old, dark memory brushed icy tendrils across the edges of his consciousness, subsiding again before he could nail it down.

Almost unnoticed, Teyla and McKay came hurrying to a stop behind Ronon and Lorne. Evidently they'd heard him, because it was McKay who said harshly, "Unless he took the _hand_ along with the detector – which is _precisely_ what he did. He's using Corporal Huff's dead hand to activate the technology." Without seeming to realize what he was doing, the Canadian scientist rubbed at the forearm Kolya had deliberately slashed on their first encounter with him.

Teyla leaned forward over Ronon's shoulder. "John, you're bleeding. Your arm—"

"Later." Sheppard took several deep breaths, steadying himself and melding his fury over this new outrage into his searingly cold determination that Kolya not be permitted any escape again. "Major Lorne – do you and McKay both have life sign detectors?" And when the affirmative answer came, "Good. Two teams, you and Ronon in one, Teyla and McKay in the other. Keep to the click code, but only when absolutely necessary, he's smart enough to figure it out. Flanking action, keep him from breaking to one side or the other, or back to populated areas, but _do not_ engage him, except to keep him from killing again. Everybody clear on that?" He looked from one face to another, and saw reflected in each some of the ice that wholly comprised him. "Then we end this _now._"

((()))

Kolya's blood spoor ran out after fifteen minutes of following it, but by the time it did, his life sign dot was flirting with the upper edge of Sheppard's LSD again. With a detached, almost clinical interest he watched it veer from one side to the other, as the man it represented sought a way to double back just out of the device's range; then, later, to escape the walls of the moving box mercilessly herding him toward his doom.

It took almost six hours for the rogue Genii to make his final mistake: a turn into a winding corridor that gave the appearance of leading back toward the lower levels of the control tower. In actuality, it let into a dead end chamber at the tower's root, purpose unknown. John paused at the entrance to the corridor: briefly wondering if he should wait for the others to catch up with him; ultimately deciding not. Still with that sense of frigid remoteness, he set his P-90 to single shot, and went in.

Kolya was still moving, although much more slowly now. Either he was feeling the effects of blood loss and the long chase; or perhaps he was beginning to suspect his error. Sheppard maintained a deliberate pace, neither hurrying nor dawdling. At the extreme bottom of his detector's screen, the dots representing Lorne and his team appeared; hesitated a moment; followed after at a much swifter pace. Having noted that, he turned his attention forward again.

"_Colonel Sheppard! Colonel Sheppard, this is the tower, please respond."_

John halted between one step and the next, shocked into immobility by the flustered female voice suddenly speaking breathlessly into his ear. _"Colonel, it is urgent that you _please_ respond."_

The rage he'd so carefully controlled nearly broke free. Setting his raised foot down with exaggerated care, he slapped his headset on and snapped, "Tower, what is it you don't understand about the meaning of _radio silence?!"_

"_Yes, Colonel."_ Her voice came back, shaky, sounding very young and frightened. One of the newbie civilian techs, he guessed, though that didn't help calm him any. _"But, sir, Ladon Radim is on the radio, he's insisting on speaking to you or Dr. Weir, and, and, sir, I'm sorry, sir, but he isn't accepting that neither one of you is available. . ."_ Her voice trailed off, leaving him with the unpleasant suspicion of tears being shed.

Oh, well, the damage was done now. And the timing, he acknowledged reluctantly, could have been much worse. "Put him through, tower," he said, resuming his forward course. Then a moment later, with acid politeness, "I'm a little busy right now, Radim, so if you could make this quick—"

"_Then Kolya did make it through to Atlantis."_ A gusty sigh blew over the radio link. _"Colonel, I want you to know the Genii government extends its fullest sympathy to you for whatever harm this renegade has caused. And, furthermore, I want to make known to you that Acastus Kolya is now officially under sentence of death for his crimes against both Atlantis and the Genii – said sentence to be carried out immediately upon his return to us."_

Laughter exploded into John's ear; and by his exclamation, into Radim's as well. Incredibly, Kolya's life sign dot began moving _toward_ Sheppard's position, just as with a rush, his team and Major Lorne rounded a corner and closed up to him. They automatically flanked him, watching him with angry, anxious eyes. _"Ah, Ladon, my old – associate—" _Kolya sounded completely unconcerned._ "The word 'renegade' on your lips has such sweet irony. Tell me, how immediately _is '_immediately'? Do you mean as soon as your cherished allies escort me through the Ancestral Ring? Or do you mean as soon as I've had a chance to recover from my injuries? Because surely there is no honor in executing a wounded man—"_

A growl deep in Ronon's throat drew Sheppard's attention to his left, before a muttered profanity made him glance at McKay. Very calmly, he glanced at his LSD one more time; as expected, they were very close to Kolya now. Switching the device off, he slipped it into a pocket on his tac vest.

They rounded a corner, and he was there, leaning against the wall halfway to the next bend. _"Or do you prefer to take the coward's way out, and leave the dirty work to Sheppard and his lackeys?"_ Kolya's lips turned up slightly in an insolent smile.

"_You are a traitor to the Genii people, and it is our prerogative to mete out the punishment you have earned by betraying us,"_ Radim said stiffly. _"Accordingly, Colonel Sheppard, I must insist that Kolya be returned to us for the execution of his sentence."_

John glanced left and then right, silently ordering the others to stay where they were. Still moving without haste, he took three steps forward, his P-90 raised and ready. Watching him, Kolya carefully straightened away from the wall and slowly extended his arms. Objects clattered to the floor from either hand, but he did not allow his attention to flicker away from his target for the slightest instant.

"Oh, Sheppard, now really," Kolya said, "do you really expect me to believe you'd shoot an unarmed man? An injured, unarmed man?" His eyes moved beyond John and back to his face again.

"My wife was unarmed when you shot her," John said pointedly, and had the satisfaction of seeing Kolya's jaw drop in shock, even as the realization of his imminent death grew in his eyes. "And for your information, you didn't even get that right. Elizabeth is still alive."

"_Colonel Sheppard—" _

"And about that execution, Radim— You're not going to have worry about it."

Sheppard pulled the trigger.

((()))

There was a weight on her lower abdomen, just below her navel; another, more prickly one, pinned her right arm. Though she couldn't be sure why, Elizabeth had a feeling, as she slowly drifted into consciousness of her surroundings, that both had been there for quite some time.

There was something _familiar_ about them, too. She struggled to analyze the sensations, realized she _knew_ that prickliness: it was John's hair. Which meant he was probably laying with his hand on her stomach again, though she'd told him and told him it was way too early for even her to feel their baby moving—

And suddenly, she was remembering gunfire. Remembering screams, pain, a suffocating fear for the child inside her as she fell, a crushing weight on top of her—

Elizabeth jerked into wakefulness with a gasp that was half a sob. _The baby, the baby, she couldn't lose her and John's baby, how would she ever be able to face him if she did—_

Hands were holding her face, strong, long hands: She knew them, too. "John," she tried to say. "Oh, John—"

"Sh, sh, it's all right." _His_ voice soothing her, _his_ arms carefully gathering her against the muscular leanness of his body. "'Lizabeth, sweetheart, it's all right, you're all right, the baby is all right. . . Honey, believe me, it's okay, _everything_ is okay. Sh, sh, sh, it's _okay_."

It got through to her finally, his insistent repeating of their code phrase, that she'd once half-jokingly called the motto of their house; got through the muddled nightmare images clogging her brain. She rested quietly in his embrace, till another chunk of memory exploded out of the dark. "John, it was _Kolya_," and the name started her shaking again, but she had to warn him, "Kolya is _here_, and he—"

His lips brushed hers, quieting her again. "I know, love, I know. But we're safe from him, now. He'll never hurt us again. Never ever."

Elizabeth heard something besides reassurance in his voice; an implacable note under the tenderness. Though it disturbed her slightly, she put it aside for the moment, lacking the strength or the will to pursue it. Besides, John wouldn't lie to her.

"It's okay," he was whispering to her again, a hypnotic rhythm. "Go back to sleep, my love, my life. You're safe, the baby is fine, it's okay."

Cradled in the arms of her husband, feeling safe and protected and loved, Elizabeth Weir Sheppard yielded to his urging, and slept.

_**The End**_


End file.
